


All Four Seasons (Rolled Into One)

by IBoatedHere



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Let! Them! Rest!, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mornings, Post-Canon, Sleeping Together, Vague mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: But Joe’s arm goes slack and when Nicky turns to look over his shoulder he sees that Joe’s eyes are still closed and his lips are just barely parted and his hair is nicely tousled.He is a deep sleeper, with his back to the wall and his face pressed to the nape of Nicky’s neck. Nicky twists and touches the back of his hand to Joe’s cheek just to watch the way the corner of Joe’s mouth quirks and his eyebrows raise just slightly. It’s an odd angle and Nicky feels something in his back pop followed by a flash of pain and then nothing at all.He’s getting older, he can feel it, even though he hasn’t aged a day.Outside the rain picks up, the wind too. The curtains billow out and Nicky lifts Joe’s arm, presses a kiss to the center of his palm, then slips free and stands.(Joe and Nicky sleeping and waking up in bed during all four seasons.)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 351





	All Four Seasons (Rolled Into One)

**Author's Note:**

> I watched gifsets and art and shit-posts roll by my dash on Tumblr for weeks before I finally watched the movie and now I'm here. 
> 
> Dead god, please just let these boys rest.

_Inverno_

He remembers the sound of the ice cracking beneath his feet and then the wet and the cold as he hit the water, the ice refreezing almost immediately above his head in the frigid temperatures.

He remembers being glad that he stepped out before Nile or Joe and thinking that maybe drowning won’t be so bad the first few dozen times. Then he remembers Quynh and the fury and the insanity that Nile says she still feels before quickly remembering that this is a lake and not the ocean and surely, come spring, it will thaw and he’ll get his head above water again. He just needs to make it until then. He’s sure Joe can wait.

_He remembers Joe._

Only a handful of seconds pass between him hitting the water and him being pulled out by three sets of hands that drag him onto thicker ice.

Joe crouches in front of him, gloves off and warms hands cradling his face, telling him it’ll be okay, while Nile looks on, back to the wind and Andy calls Copley, letting him know that they need to be picked up, _now._

Nicky shivers, teeth chattering as he nods at whatever Joe is saying as he rubs his thumbs over Nicky’s cheeks and presses his fingers to the hinge of Nicky’s jaw.

It’s nearly impossible to hear his words over the roar of the helicopter as it touches down.

Inside Nicky is wrapped up in a thick blanket and then wrapped up in Joe who holds him tightly as the helicopter lifts off the ground and doesn’t let go until Nicky is tucked into bed in a small cabin with a wood stove and a door that rattles in the wind.

He curls in on himself, knees to his chest as he fights sleep so he can watch Andy and Nile light the fire and Joe as he digs through their bags, looking for warmer clothing.

He wants to reach a hand out and call for Joe but before he can work his arm free of the heavy quilt, sleep takes over.

It’s light when he wakes.

The world outside the window is a pale, winter white that makes everything feel cold and warm at the same time.

The quilt is tucked up beneath his chin and when he wiggles his toes he can feel that they’re covered in thick socks.

He’s alone as well, Joe’s arm absent from around his waist, because Joe is kneeling by the stove, feeding it more kindling as the fire roars.

His eyebrows are knit together and his lips are pressed into a thin line and Nicky’s heart aches with the fact that however inadvertent it might have been, he’s the reason for that look.

“Joe,” Nicky says, and Joe turns his head, expression clearing as the love floods back in. “I’m okay. Don’t look so sad.”

Joe’s eyes slide down to the scraps of wood in his hand before he tosses them at the flames. “You were so cold.”

Nicky nods and pulls the quilt down and holds it open. “Then come warm me up.”

_Primavera_

The sound of softly rolling thunder wakes him up.

They’re far enough removed from their last mission that he should be sleeping straight through it. Enough time has passed that he shouldn’t be jolting awake and reaching for the gun he keeps tucked beside the bed but the metal is cool against his hand and Joe is heavy and warm against his back and the early springtime rain is gently hitting the floor beneath the open window.

The thunder rolls again as he sets the gun back into its hiding place. They’re safe, all of them, and there’s no need for his heart to be pounding the way that it is.

Joe’s arm tightens around his waist like he can sense the fleeting moment of panic that had coursed through Nicky’s body. For a moment Nicky thinks that maybe he’s woken him, and Joe’s hand will slide from his hip to his back where it will rub in soft circles between his shoulders and Joe will ask, voice still rough with sleep, _“what’s wrong, my love.”_

But Joe’s arm goes slack and when Nicky turns to look over his shoulder he sees that Joe’s eyes are still closed and his lips are just barely parted and his hair is _nicely tousled._

He is a deep sleeper, with his back to the wall and his face pressed to the nape of Nicky’s neck. Nicky twists and touches the back of his hand to Joe’s cheek just to watch the way the corner of Joe’s mouth quirks and his eyebrows raise just slightly. It’s an odd angle and Nicky feels something in his back pop followed by a flash of pain and then nothing at all.

He’s getting older, he can feel it, even though he hasn’t aged a day.

Outside the rain picks up, the wind too. The curtains billow out and Nicky lifts Joe’s arm, presses a kiss to the center of his palm, then slips free and stands.

They had opened the window late last night, when the sky was still clear and full of stars and the room felt heavy and smelled of sweat and sex.

Joe had climbed out of bed and pried it open. He stood naked in the moonlight, head bowed and skin glowing and Nicky had admired with his head propped in his hand.

Joe had noticed that he was being noticed and stepped away from the window and took Nicky’s hand when he had offered it.

Nicky had spread his free hand low across Joe’s stomach as they kissed and Joe had hummed then laughed as Nicky pulled him closer.

“You’re ready for round four,” he had asked and Nicky pulled back and took a moment to count.

“Round three,” Nicky had said. “You make me think.”

“I make promises,” Joe replied and bent his head for another kiss.

Nicky closes the window all the way then changes his mind and opens it a crack. The air is cool but it smells fresh and clean and the rain hitting the tin roof beneath them sounds a bit like a lullaby.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, it’s a nice moment that turns perfect when Joe’s voice rings out.

“Come back to bed,” Joe says, voice muffled by the pillow. “I miss you.”

“I was barely even gone,” Nicky tells him as he crosses the room.

Joe extends his arm, palm up and fingers curling. Nicky covers it with his own as he crawls back into bed.

_Estate_

Even though they’ve lived for centuries without it, getting stuck in a hotel room without an air conditioner is truely torture.

Especially in Kuwait. In the dead of summer.

“It’s a dry heat,” Andy keeps saying, like that’s supposed to make it better.

Nike keeps insisting that it’s not so bad, that she’s had it worse, that she walked around Afghanistan in fatigues but even she has to admit that it’s miserable when the temperature somehow climbs higher even after the sun goes down.

“You could kill me,” she says, arms stretched out against the rickety table top. “For a little bit I’d feel better.”

That seems to be the final straw for Joe who stands and walks out of the room without saying a word, door slamming behind him.

“What’s his problem,” Nile asks, head still resting against the wood and Nicky shrugs, eyes on the door, waiting for him to reappear.

It wasn’t a long wait, thankfully. Joe reappeared less than ten minutes later with a large bag of ice in each hand.

“For you,” he says, tossing one bag onto the table, Nile sitting up and moving back just in time. He raises the second bag and nods toward Nicky. “For us.” Then he hooks his hand, damp and cool, beneath Nicky’s arm and hauls him to his feet and they stumble for the door.

“If you have ear plugs,” he hears Andy say before the door closes, “I suggest you use them, now.”

Locked in their own room, they strip down to nothing and Joe climbs onto Nicky’s lap on the bed and opens the bag of ice.

Joe takes a single cube out of the bag and holds it in his fingertips as he drags it across Nicky’s skin, across the tops of his shoulders and the dip of his collarbone. He traces the trail of cold water down Nicky’s chest with his tongue, to the cut of his hip bone and lower still.

Nicky clutches at the sheets and Joe sits back and smiles the best he can with an ice cube stuck between his teeth. He bites down, the ice shattering and crunching as he chews.

Nicky nods and sits up just enough to curl his hand around the back of Joe’s head and pull him down for a kiss.

By morning the remaining cubes of ice have melted and the bag of water sits abandoned on the bed, condensation seeping into the sheets as the air in the room hangs heavy with heat.

The sun is bright and shining through the window into Nicky’s eyes so he rolls away, toward the middle of the bed, foot kicking out and knocking the bag onto the floor where he’s almost sure it breaks open.

He reaches out blindly for Joe but he’s too far away, stretched out on his stomach on the far side of the bed. Nicky’s sure they came together and broke apart at least a half a dozen times last night, wanting to be close, to be touching, but the sweltering heat proved to be too much.

It’s still miserable. Still sticky and gross and cloying but it’s been...who knows how long since Nicky’s touched Joe’s skin and that burns more than the sun could ever.

With a sigh, Nicky picks himself up only to flop back down as close as he can get to Joe’s side. He buries his face against Joe’s neck and breathes in deeply.

Joe’s skin smells like sun and sweat and nine hundred years of love and devotion.

_Autunno_

Nicky drums his fingers against the bed and waits.

Joe hasn’t been gone long, according to the clock on the nightstand it’s only been ten minutes but it’s rare these days that they get to sleep in (it’s rare that they get to sleep at all) and Joe leaving him alone in bed for any length of time is unacceptable.

At the thirteen minute mark the door to their bedroom opens and Joe steps in wearing a pair of boxers and one of Nicky’s sweatshirts, all black with a tear at the pocket.

He’s holding two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand so he gently kicks the door closed with his foot. He startles when he sees that Nicky is awake and watching and covers the surprise with an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers as he sets the mugs down on the nightstand beside the clock.

“How can I sleep without you beside me,” Nicky asks, looking up beneath his eyelashes as he wraps his hand around the back of Joe’s knee, not tugging, just holding as goosebumps rise across his skin. “Are you cold?”

“It’s chilly.”

“Might I suggest pants,” Nicky says as he tugs at Joe’s boxers then rolls over onto his back to make room as Joe gets his knee on the bed.

“Why put on pants if I’ll just be taking them off again?”

“Why wear anything at all?”

“Nile was in the kitchen.”

“Ah.”

Joe sits back against the headboard and reaches for one of the mugs and Nicky sits up as well. Joe passes the mug to him and grabs the second one as Nicky tastes his first sip.

It’s hot and sweet, too sweet, and tastes like something he can’t quite put his finger on. He winces and holds his arm straight out, trying to get the mug as far from himself as possible.

Joe laughs around the rim of the mug as Nicky shakes his head.

“What is that?”

“It’s a latte. You’ve had them before.”

“Yes, but it tastes like--.”

“Pumpkin spice,” Joe interrupts. “Nile says it’s all anyone drinks this time of year. I think it’s nice.” He takes another sip, lips kissing the ceramic of the mug and Nicky leans across Joe’s body to set his mug on the table before he plucks the one from Joe’s hand and sets it down as well.

Joe watches, clearly amused as Nicky throws one leg across Joe’s thighs and pushes his hands beneath the sweatshirt, spreading his fingers out against warm skin.

“Of course,” Joe says, hands clutching at Nicky’s hips, “it’s not nearly as nice as you.”

Nicky smiles into a kiss that tastes like cinnamon.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Northern Wind by City and Colour.


End file.
